Vocalise Extras
by pantheradraconis
Summary: These are extra chapters for my fanfic Vocalise. They are separated because the story can exist without them and they are rated M for language, violence, rape, murder, sexual situations; basically everything that makes up the M rating. They go best with reading the story Vocalise and the chapters are listed in numerical order to the original story.


**Title:** Vocalise

**Author:** pantheradraconis

**Rating:** M

**Pairing:** Bella/Rosalie

**Summary:** "From calm and serene to I want to rip you to shreds. Sometimes getting to the part where you can say I love you and never question it is a pain in the arse." - Review from ChesireMonkey. Alice saw a vision involving Rosalie and Bella. What did she see? And how will it affect everyone around them?

Vocalise

By pantheradraconis

Chapter 28: Royce

**A/N: Just wanted to make sure that you all know this is Chapter 28 from the story Vocalise. I am posting this chapter separately because it is rated M for violence, rape, death, language… You get the deal. You don't have to read this chapter to keep up with Vocalise, it is just a point of view I wanted to write. It is the same story as in the original books. I think that's it, so yeah, please read and review. **

Lifting the warm beer to his lips, Royce sloshed the liquid around attempting to rid the taste of ash in his mouth. He hated cigarettes; hated everything about them, the smell, the taste, even the texture of the bud, but the guys all smoked and the small bar they were in was clouded in the smoke anyways. Cracking his neck to each side, the young man finished off his glass before setting it back on the table, looking around at the rowdy group. Robert and Harold were laughing about some nonsense, Robert's face running with sweat down his thick neck. Harold was sitting back with one hand tucked into his vest, his mustache bent awkwardly. James was in the corner near the bar, hand up some broad's skirt. Something about her legs made the banker wondered if he knew her; Royce leaned around to see the girl's face, but it was lost in his friend's neck and longish brown hair.

Frank walked up to the bar next to Royce and ordered a scotch straight up. Royce found himself inwardly laughing at the skinny man; he could drink like a sailor, that's for sure. Out of the whole group, Royce was certain Frank was the most sober, but that wasn't saying much. The young banker turned back to James with the girl, finally seeing her face as she turned and laughed loudly. Her nose was small and speckled with freckles; eyes were covered in thick black markings making her look very tired. Red hair dangled into her face and down her large chest. Although Royce didn't think much about the girl's face, he was certain he'd seen her out of that dress before. He smirked trying to remember just how recently that had been and wondered if he should tell James.

Shaking his head to himself, he decided to hold onto the information; at least until he could use it to make fun of the other man later on.

Frank was talking to him, but Royce barely heard the words. He needed more to drink. Flagging down the bartender, Royce ordered a scotch to match his friend's and downed the drink in two gulps. A sharp cough erupted from his throat, but he kept himself composed as the potent alcohol began to take its effect.

The night continued much the same as Royce absently drank heavily, his boredom leaving him restless. When James went to join Robert and Harold at their table, starting a quick game of cards and drunkenly betting their week's wages, Royce stole his way over to the redhead. She barely greeted him with a nod, took the drink in his hands and swallowed it down as he took over what James had only begun.

A harsh, loud whisper echoed through the room as the redhead asked if Royce wanted to join her in a back room. He had already had her, of that he was certain; no point in going there again. He pushed the girl away and went to the bar. She huffed, upset, but Royce knew if he changed his mind, she would still be just as willing. He wasn't that desperate, he wasn't even that interested in the act currently. Royce simply wanted to alleviate his boredom.

The night moved on as Royce and his friends drank more and more. When their tab was easily reaching $50, the bartender demanded to see the money. Royce laughed, dropped a few names, and the bartender gave the group another round of beer. Stale, but Royce didn't care to comment.

Harold, clearly losing all of his money to the jovial body of Robert, decided the game was over and in a huff got up from the table. His legs shook slightly, looking like he was about to tumble over from getting up too quickly, but Frank caught the stocky man and the group decided it was time to move on.

As the four men walked out of the building in front of Royce, the young banker scowled at the drunken way they stumbled out of the bar. It was nearing midnight, their surroundings nearly pitch dark from the moonless sky, and Royce was grumbling to himself about the wasted night. He needed something exciting, something worth his time. Taking up the rear, Royce waltzed out of the bar coolly and confidently behind the now singing trio of Harold, Robert, and James, who was clutching a half empty bottle of scotch, and leaned against the outside wall with Frank. The other man nonchalantly passed his friend a cigarette from his silver case and lit both up smokes. Royce frowned at the bitter taste, but smoked it just the same.

Once his cigarette was done, Frank stole away from the group and dodged around the side of the bar to take a leak. That was when things got interesting for Royce. He remembered it clearly. Royce was acknowledging Frank's withdrawal from the group when he heard James start whistling across the street. Under the only streetlight walked a beautiful young woman. Her hair glittered gold, her skin shone in the light, an almost angelic glow. All four men were drawn to the beauty before them and in their drunken haze, none of the men managed to recognize the girl for who she was. Royce took a few steps forward from the building, smiling at his friends' hoots and hollers before his vision became clear enough to make out the girl's face.

His smile became dangerous as his eyes focused on the most beautiful woman in all of Rochester.

"Now wait a minute, ain't that Miss Hale?" James' voice carried over the cat calls into the night. The words caused the girl to turn towards the group for the first time. Royce immediately made eye contact with the young woman and beckoned her over.

She hesitated for a moment, seeming to decide which action would be safer, coming up to the drunken men, or blatantly ignoring her soon to be husband.

"Why Miss Hale," Royce's voice was thick and heavy in the spring night's air. "To what do we owe this pleasure, my dear?"

Rosalie moved toward the group, but kept her distance. It was obvious she smelled the layers of alcohol on the men's breath and clothing.

"Good night Mr. King. Good night to you all." The blonde quickly nodded to the group in turn, then made to keep walking by; however, Royce had other plans.

"Won't you come and talk a moment?" He said smoothly, smiling toward his friends more than the woman he addressed.

"You are drunk." Rosalie said in a quiet tone.

"And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Won't you stay for just a moment?" He simply wanted to show her off a bit to his friends. They were still whistling and making other gestures of confidence towards him. And Royce loved to boast.

"I think you should go back to your friends and I will continue my way home. We will see each other in the morning." Rosalie's voice was low and harsh. Royce looked over his shoulder as his friends started to laugh. They were laughing at him.

"You going to let her talk to you like that Royce?" Robert laughed bitterly.

"Yeah, Royce, why don't you tuck her into bed?" Harold quipped in.

Rosalie turned to walk away from the group once again. The comments from his friends, the alcohol rushing through his system, and the obvious disregard Rosalie was showing him caused Royce to reach out and grab the young woman. She let out a whimper, but it was nothing, Royce hadn't grabbed her that hard. Pulling the blonde behind him, Royce walked back over to his friends.

"Isn't she the most beautiful woman you've ever seen?" He asked rhetorically. "There is no other beauty greater than hers in anywhere I've travelled."

Rosalie tugged against Royce's grip, attempting to free herself from the group. He clasped his fingers harder around her shoulder, and pulled her around to face him. Anger showed on his face, but as he looked over the woman's beautiful features, his own expression softened. He kissed the blonde. She yanked herself back and out of his arms. Red marks the size of fingers showed up on her skin. She took a step back, a look of disgust on her face, only to knock into Robert and Harold. The two looked her over like she was something to eat. James licked his lips and blew a kiss towards the woman.

Rosalie frowned and circled around; she was surrounded by the four men and the bar. A small gap between Royce and Robert allowed the blonde to escape the circle, but it brought her down the alley along the building. She quickened her steps, fear creeping up on her as she tried to escape the drunken group.

Royce laughed, his boredom finally alleviated, as the three other men started down the alleyway after the girl. He walked calmly behind the small entourage, laughing loudly as he saw Rosalie running into Frank near the end of the alley. Frank looked at his friends' smiles and immediately blocked Rosalie's escape.

It was all harmless; Rosalie was taking small steps trying to get past the men, who quickly circled around her. They were laughing, enjoying themselves. Royce walked up to the girl and took her face in his hands. Once again he turned her around and showed her off to each of his friends. They laughed, reached out to caress her cheek, leaned in and smelled her neck. She was Royce's, and he was determined to let everyone know.

He pulled her back in against his body, licked her neck. The guys yelled out with cheers. She was beautiful and she was his. Royce could feel Rosalie pushing against him; he could feel her struggle, but it just kept it all the more interesting.

"She's got a beautiful face, but what about the rest of her?" Royce didn't know which of his friends said it, but it didn't matter. They wanted more and he was willing to give it to them. Rosalie whimpered loudly so Royce moved his left hand to cover her mouth and hold her still. He pulled on her dress, the thick fabric rough in his wavering hands. He tried to simply pull the top down, but the stitching ripped along the shoulder and fell. Robert reached his pudgy fingers out and ripped the shoulder clean off, half the front of the dress coming with it. He lifted the fabric over his head like it was a prize then rubbed it against Harold's face. The man laughed and smelled the fabric deeply, rubbing it across his mustache and lips. They passed it on to Frank who stuffed the fabric down the front of his pants, laughing and doing a quick dance.

Royce bellowed with laughter at his friends' reactions. Then he yelled in pain as the blonde's teeth came down on his fingers, drawing blood. He released her quickly, but was stepping on the bottom of her skirt. Rosalie twisted around to defend herself, but instead tripped over the skirt and fell to the ground. The boys laughed at her strewn figure on the ground. Her skirt had lifted up exposing her white thighs.

James took a swig of the scotch, tumbling slightly backwards from the momentum of the bottle. Some of the liquid splashed down onto the girl's face and stomach. She squealed like an animal and spit to the side. The group laughed again and James leaned down to place the bottle against the blonde's lips. He poured the liquid over her face as she tried to turn and push him away.

"Come on sweetheart, don't you want a swig?" Harold joked as Robert squatted down to hold the girl's face straight.

Frank was staring at the girl's thighs intently, licking his lips as he got closer. He stumbled over to the ground in between Royce and the quivering girl. With his long fingers, Frank reached up along the girl's thighs, ignoring her squeals, and pressed his hand between her legs. Rosalie kicked fiercely, causing Frank to grab on and pull. Her undergarments ripped exposing her to the night air. Frank laughed as a second kick hit him right in the mouth, breaking a tooth.

Royce pushed his friend over, rolling him into the alley wall, and looked over what was rightfully his. Overcome with passion and lust, he reached his hand up into the thrashing girl. Harold moved to her right side, Robert to the left, holding the girl's limbs down as James continued to take deep swigs of the scotch and kiss the girl's screaming mouth to quiet the echoes.

The young banker relished in the heat and liquid running across his fingers into his palm. To touch an untouched woman was to make one's mark on the world. As he continued to pump his hand roughly into the girl before him, his friends cheered on and the girl's muffled screams broke into the air. Quickly removing his belt, and lowering his own pants, Royce crawled on top of the girl and thrust himself into her. She screamed anew, tears rolling down her cheeks; spit escaping the sides of her mouth.

Within seconds Royce felt the girl's opening tear wider and he quickened his pace in the excitement. Two minutes' time and his body quaked over hers, releasing himself into the virgin girl, a virgin no longer. Removing himself, Royce grabbed the girl's skirt and wiped the blood and semen off his skin and clothing.

Putting his clothing back together, Royce raised himself above the group in triumph. The boys cheered and laughed, passing what was left of the scotch about in celebration.

Frank moved back into the group, already half undressed himself, he quickly began thrusting himself on top of the blonde. She screamed anew and the scene happened all over again. Royce looked down angrily at first, wanting to throw his friend off of his fiancée. She was his property; she was the most beautiful woman in the world. But the cheers continued and his friends were having fun because of _him_; because of _his_ fiancée; because of _his_ property.

Grabbing the almost empty bottle, Royce finished the scotch off as his friends took turns using the girl. Her screams became shallower and her struggles weaker as the time continued. When it was Robert's turn, he had trouble fitting his chubby body over her. When he finally got himself in and started thrusting, the movement brought the alcohol up and he puked on the girl's neck and shoulder. Harold laughed so hard he pissed himself. They were a right mess.

When each man had finished, the girl was barely moving; blood was all over her skirt, a small puddle on the cobblestone beneath her. Her hair was swirled with vomit, sweat, and blood; her arms and legs were bruised and cut; she was no longer beautiful.

Royce looked down in disappointment. "I guess next time I'll have to find a fiancée who's not as ugly." He spit on the girl and left the alley. His friends following, still full of drink and laughter.

Royce made his way home, discarded his clothing into the trash for the servants to throw away, and cleaned himself in the bath. The night soon became a blur as he finally passed out in his large bed.

It was four days pass when the news finally reached the King household. Rosalie Hale had gone missing. She was last seen by her friend Vera Lignarie at her home on the edge of the town square. Mr. and Mrs. Hale reported their daughter missing the next morning. The police officers started at the Lignarie home, followed the most likely path Rosalie would have gone to return home, and then extended their search throughout the entire town.

"Why wasn't I told of this earlier?" Royce demanded of the officer, genuinely confused. Missing? He thought for certain…

"The family wanted to keep the news private, hoping the young lady would be found. Do you know of her whereabouts Mr. King?" The officer was just a few years older than Royce; obviously new to his position, he was attempting to be suave. Royce snarled at the man, who twitched slightly before regaining his composure.

"Do you dare accuse me of foul play?" The young banker's eyes grew dark as he stared down the officer in front of him.

"I do believe it is time you left, sir." Royce's father spoke up, a servant already holding the front door open. "We will join your efforts in the search immediately. Good day."

"Where is she?"

"Keep your voice down!" Royce whispered harshly, grabbing Harold's shirt in his fists before pushing the shaking man back.

"It doesn't make any sense." Frank, as calm as always, was carefully examining the alley cobblestones. Robert leaned against the wall, a glaze over his eyes as he tried to forget the memory of that place. "It's as if someone came through and rubbed the area clean. What could possibly have gotten rid of the bl… of the stains?"

"It smells strongly of alcohol. Not of scotch, but of a hospital. It smells sterile." Royce agreed looking over the area once again. They had been there for nearly an hour, looks of bewilderment the only thing they accomplished since they first arrived. "Who would have access to so much cleaning agent?"

Before Frank could answer, Harold's shaking became stronger and he looked as if he was going to run. "I…I… We have to tell them. I can't live with this… We have to tell them." The stocky man was backing away from the group slowly. Before Royce was able to grab the man, he took off at a full sprint.

"Shit."

Frank shook his head back and forth as he got to his feet. "We can't let him reach the police. He's guaranteed to tell them everything."

"Shit." Royce rubbed his hands across his face thinking over their situation. How had it gotten so out of control? He really needed to work on his patience. "Shit. Alright, you watch Robert, I'll go after Harold." Shaking his head once again, Royce turned to follow after Harold before he added, "And try to find James."

Exiting the alleyway, Royce looked around for the coward he called friend, but the man was nowhere in sight. Thinking fast, Royce went to the police department. The office was only a quarter of a mile away, but the streets and buildings scattered across the city made the direct path take almost twice as long.

Having no idea what to expect, Royce couldn't plan for his entrance. Was he walking into a confession? Had Harold even gotten to the station? Was he even going there? No time to think it over, one _must_ act. Royce opened the door and walked in, unnoticed by the three officers in the middle of a heated argument.

"We cannot jump to conclusions. There is no proof Miss Hale has been murdered." An older officer was speaking down to the captain at his desk.

"Officer Hayfield is correct. We only have one body accounted for." The captain replied in an exasperated voice.

"We must be prepared for the worst. Mr. Archer's body was beaten almost unrecognizably."

"What do you mean James is dead?" Royce's voice startled the three officers. His eyes matched those of the last officer to speak; it was the same man who had come to his house only hours before.

"Mr. King, we didn't hear you come in. What can we help you with?" It was the captain. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days.

"You said James was found…beaten. When did this happen?" Royce's voice was growing in anger.

"That was privileged information that you should not have…"

"Stop it Officer Rouse." The older officer cut the man off. "Last night, Royce, but we only just found him two hours ago. I'm… I'm sorry to tell you."

"Do you know anything about this?" The young officer asked once again, the same accusing voice he had used when questioning Rosalie's absence.

"That's enough! Both of you quit talking." The captain stood up from behind his desk. "Mr. King, I'm sorry, but I must ask you to leave. It is best if you do not share this information with anyone else, we wouldn't want rumors going about the town." The captain's voice made no argument, but also left no room for questions.

Royce nodded slowly and left the building in a daze.

James was dead. What could this mean? Is it because… because… No, it couldn't possibly be… He had to find Harold.

It was dark by the time Royce made it around to the Proctor's household to find Harold. The young banker had wandered the streets for hours. Eventually he found himself at the door of the Archer household, but couldn't bring himself to knock. What would he have said? He had never known a man to die. Not a man he was so close to. Not a friend. Could this really be because of…? No. Royce shook the idea out of his head before knocking. There was no answer. Surely someone must be home at this hour. Someone must know where Harold had gone to.

He knocked again, this time hearing footsteps coming down the hallway. A servant opened the door, but not wide enough for entrance. "I'm sorry sir, but the Proctor residence is not accepting visitors at this time." The door began shut, when Royce reached out his hand, slamming it hard to keep the door open.

"I'm looking for Harold, is he home?"

The servant's face became dark, his eyes flickering to the floor quickly, but it didn't go unnoticed by Royce. He shoved the door open and stole his way past the man. He made his way to the parlor, hearing voices through the hallway.

Mr. and Mrs. Proctor stood huddled closely together, dressed in their night clothes and robes, their two daughters were crying on the sofa, and a body was covered by a sheet near a broken window. Officer Rouse stood across from the older couple, a pad of paper and a pen in his hands. He looked up with shock at first, and then a grim smirk crossed his lips. "Mr. King, what a surprise."

Royce was too busy looking at the covered body on the floor. He ran over to it and pulled back the sheet. The two girls screamed lightly, before their cries overcame their surprise. Royce barely heard them; he barely noticed Mr. Proctor's angry shouts. All Royce saw was a beaten, bruised, disfigured version of his late friend Harold.

"How did this… how did this happen?" His voice was a whisper, but it was still heard over the girls' sobs.

"Is there something you wish to tell us, Mr. King?" The officer's voice was thick with a lack of subtly. Royce turned, a look of anger mixed with fear as he looked the officer in the eyes. Did he know? Had Harold told them? No, if he had he would have been in jail. He would have been safe. Instead… He had to get out of there; he had to warn Frank, to warn Robert. What if he was too late?

Without a second thought, Royce ran out of the house, the door left swinging open in his haste. Officer Rouse walked to the entrance slowly, watched the man run off into the night with mere curiosity. Something big was afoot and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Robert's house was empty, save for the grumpy and confused servant who answered Royce's loud knocks in the early light of day. He searched the house even as the servant demanded a reason and threatened to call the police. Royce didn't care; he didn't care if he was arrested, something told him he only had hours left to live. Maybe if he turned himself in he couldn't be found by whoever was murdering his friends? No, this was bigger, the police couldn't save him. This killer, murderer after his friends, she, his fiancée, Rosalie, would find him, there was no escaping. Royce was certain of this. It was too late, he had to hide.

Royce ran to the bank, the safest place he knew. His father was always gloating about their new vault door; the latest thing in technology, he would say. Royce hoped so. He quickly bribed the two guards at the front of the bank, promised them hundreds of dollars if they locked him into the vault and watched the outside of the door.

He was shaking, curled into a ball at the far corner of the small room when he heard the noise of the fallen guards outside the door. His ears so attuned to the slightest noise, he was not surprised he could hear the muffled yells of the burly men, the snapping of bones, most likely their necks, and the sharp smacking noise as their lifeless bodies hit the floor.

The vault door opened so easily for the devil that entered. She was pristine, more beautiful than he had ever seen her before. Her hair glowed in the dim light, blonde curls cascading around her face perfectly. Her very skin seemed to sparkle in a brilliant shine even through the pure white of her wedding dress. But it was her eyes that Royce found himself staring at; the brilliant red color shot pain straight into his body; they were the eyes of the evil spirit come to kill him. He was never more certain of anything in his life.

He could no longer hear the noises around him; the vault closing, the loud shriek as the door was forever sealed shut. He didn't hear the tools scraping across the metal as the workers tried to open the door in the morning hours. He didn't hear his father calling out through the noise trying to hear from his only son. Royce didn't even hear his own screams as he was tortured within his life, only to be left to revive for the next set of torture mere hours later.

As the time went by, the silence that filled Royce's ears was the echo of Rosalie Lillian Hale's own death and of the ghost before him finally killing him. It was almost funny that Royce realized he didn't bleed once as his body finally gave in to the inevitable, and he collapsed for the last time on the cold metal floor.

**A/N: That was a lot harder to write than I thought it would be. **


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